


Song Bird, Where Do You Fly?

by ConvictorKaruma



Category: synchronicity - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 20:28:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConvictorKaruma/pseuds/ConvictorKaruma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One Yet To Come can hardly remember who she is, there are only brief flashes of memory brought on by the song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Song Bird, Where Do You Fly?

**Author's Note:**

> I really like to imagine OYTC as motherly in personality when she doesn’t have her deity duties to attend to, like she’s nurturing and lovely to balance OSU’s wretched destruction? this isn’t shown here as much, though.

It was almost  _too_  quiet, empty, even, and her face was  _burning_. There was no more music, no more comforting rumble from her partner, there was  _nothing_. She couldn’t even remember what it was she missed so much.

It was quiet, and she knew that, but quiet compared to  _what_? Here there was sound, her own breath, water dripping, and an occasional gust of wind. But there were no birds. Yes, that’s what was missing, her lovely, darling birds! No two had the same plumage.

Plumage…she could no longer see, she realized with disappointment. Had she always been unable to see? Had her face always felt so searing hot? Surely not. Then she heard something, faintly. Almost as though it were coming from miles away only for her to hear. A beautiful, young voice.  _One of her birds_.

The bird spoke of a beautiful, bright, warm world. Of a kindly masked man speaking with a young boy with hair that glittered. She spoke of protecting the world…

Her eyes widened behind the cold porcelain that somehow bore into her like hot spikes, she recognized the masked man! He was one of her  _special_  birds! She had seen him, and he’d had a large, large woman with him. Where were they? They could surely help her!

The rest of the song faded from her hearing, and again she was alone. When had she met the man and his giantess friend? How had she met them? She couldn’t remember much outside of this…wherever she was. It sounded like a cave. It  _had_  to be a cave! She remembered a time with no pain. She remembered fire, burning, death, destruction. Rebirth, building, new birds! She remembered a huge, lumbering presence and a comforting rumble he gave off that shook her very being.

The memory of the death and destruction told her the burning wasn’t real. She didn’t smell burning, it only felt like it. Something was doing this to her, but she was powerless to stop it. Powerless to destroy it. Destroy. That word, that action, it felt…the thought of destruction raised an inexplicable  _need_  in her. She  _wanted,_ craved,  **needed**  the bite of destruction, the dirt, soot, ash on her hands. Time…time was up. She didn’t know what time, she couldn’t remember. She tried to conjure up something, anything, but only shadows rose at her feet, and they weren’t needed.

She remembered power, she remembered  _he_  was asleep. He needed to wake up, and they were so, so close. Only a few more divas and the magic would begin to wane enough. This all meant nothing now, all she remembered was being so close to something she knew, in every way, had to happen.

And then there was pain, and darkness. “Sing for me?” she begged the darkness around her. Surely the little bird could hear her. Please let the little bird hear her.

Please let someone hear her. Someone, anyone…the burning and confusion…where were her birds? She knew, somehow, thy had to be able to help. They  _had_  to.


End file.
